


The Persistence of Memory

by savvierthanu



Category: The Eagle (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvierthanu/pseuds/savvierthanu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esca loses his memory. Marcus tries to help him get it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to sineala and carmarthen , who served as cheerleaders, betas, inaccuracy-finders, and plot helper-outers.
> 
>  
> 
> Title is taken from that Dali painting. You know, with the drippy clocks. Because, um, that made sense to me at the time.

_  
_

“Marcus.”

Marcus’ head snaps up as it always does when he says his name, a mixture of hope and sheepishness in his eyes. They’re sitting in the garden, whittling. Marcus is working on a horse and he’s trying to make some sort of bird, but at the moment it doesn’t look like much of anything.

“Yes?” He always sounds patient, but there’s eagerness as well. It’s all very complicated and sometimes it makes his head hurt.

“Am I simple?” Marcus looks horrified so he amends the question. “I mean, was I simple?”

That seems to help because Marcus reaches out and pushes his hair back, careful of the injury, his thick fingers combing along his scalp. “No, Esca, no. Of course not. Why would you ask that?” Esca is his name. Marcus uses it often.

“It’s just that—you do so much for me that I could do myself. Sometimes it makes me feel like a child. Or simple.” It’s been niggling at him for days. Marcus fetching him food, Marcus laying out his clothes, Marcus saddling his horse. Walking with him, sitting with him, even bathing him.

Marcus takes his hand away, his face struggling not to look incredibly sad. Esca hates when he gets that look, it makes him feel as though he’s done something wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a good question to ask. But Marcus had said that all questions are good questions and that Esca should always, always ask. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to give you more independence. I just—”

Esca glares because Marcus cutting himself off doesn’t help anything. The things that he wants to say might be important. They might bring Esca’s memory back; bring back the Esca that Marcus misses so much.

“Just what?”

Marcus sighs. “I just worry. I thought I lost you once already.” He turns his attention to his horse, carving off another bit of wood, nearly taking off his own thumb.

You did, Esca thinks miserably. All I know of myself is what you’ve told me.

“I once felt the same way about you, you know.”

Esca puts down his knife and the misshapen bird and watches Marcus’ face as he speaks, though Marcus continues working.

“I hurt my leg very badly and it healed poorly. My uncle bought—” Marcus pauses, his mouth twisting sourly. “My uncle _brought_ you here to help me do the simplest things. I could barely take a piss on my own, much less care for myself, so you helped me do almost everything.” Marcus smiles to himself. “I hated you for it, so I suppose I should know better.”

“So I was a healer?”

Marcus pauses again, and it makes Esca want to scream, the way he sometimes withholds information. “No. Uncle simply needed someone able-bodied.”

“So he asked me.”

Marcus wipes a hand over his face, trying to maintain his composure. Something is not right here, and Esca will know what it is.

“There is much you are not saying, Marcus.”

Dropping his tools, Marcus buries his face in his hands for a moment and breathes out a shaky breath. “I know.” He reaches over with one hand and grasps blindly for Esca’s fingers, squeezing them firmly. Esca has learned that Marcus takes comfort in touching him, and he must admit that he takes no small amount of comfort from it as well. “I know. I’m sorry, Esca.”

“Will you tell me? All of it, please.”

Marcus shifts to face Esca fully, taking his other hand and turning them both palm-upwards, sweeping his thumbs over the calloused skin and staring at them like they hold all the answers. When he finally lifts his face to look in Esca’s eyes, Esca curls his fingers loosely around Marcus’ thumbs, holding on.

“You were a slave.”

“What?”

“Let me tell the whole story.”

Esca nods, clenching his teeth to keep from interrupting.

And Marcus does, explaining what little he knows of Esca’s origins, how he—self-admittedly—foolishly saved him from death in the arena, how they became tentative friends and tentative allies traveling in the north. And how he freed Esca when it looked as though all was lost, not thinking he would ever see him again. How Esca returned, and has been with him ever since.

When he finishes, Esca has many things running through his head, none of which he can fully get a grasp on.

“Are you all right?” Marcus asks, concern lining his face.

No, Esca thinks. I still have no real idea who either of us is. “I’m going to take a walk. I’ll—I’ll be back before nightfall.”

The corners of Marcus’ mouth turn down, but he holds his tongue, nodding curtly and watching as Esca makes his way out of the garden and towards the nearby fields.

~*~

Esca doesn’t come back before nightfall. He wanders the fields, spending several hours sitting by the river, wondering how well he used to know this land, what the place he was born looks like. Inevitably his thoughts are always drawn back to Marcus, the only connection he truly has to his past, and it’s a tenuous one at best.

And Marcus is a puzzle in and of himself. Esca knows that there is more between them than mere friendship—he can feel Marcus’ eyes on him at all times, filled with longing more than possessiveness—but he does not speak of it, and Esca does not have the heart to bring it up. There’s a part of him that warms to be near Marcus, that enjoys the small, unconscious touches and gestures, and, as much as it sometimes hurts, it also gives him hope that the old Esca is not lost.

He watches the sun set from the top of a hill overlooking the grain fields, the dying light staining them red. It’s so beautiful that Esca can’t tear himself away before the last light is gone, for he cannot remember ever seeing anything so wondrous. Perhaps the old Esca wouldn’t blink an eye, but he is transfixed.

Reaching the villa well after nightfall—and that’s really only because he happened to guess the correct direction in which to walk—having certainly missed dinner, Esca makes his way to the kitchen. Marcus said he was well-versed in surviving the wilderness, so perhaps there was no need to stumble through the dark. Other than the fact that he told Marcus he would be back, of course.

Marcus is sitting at one of the preparation tables, slumped over a cup of wine and staring intently at the grease stains on the surface of the table. There are a few plates of simple fare next to him, seemingly untouched. Guilt lances through him at how defeated Marcus looks, but he learned just today that he is a free man and therefore has no requirement to answer for his actions.

Esca slides into the seat across from Marcus and takes a long drink from his cup, simultaneously reaching for the food.

“You said you would be back before nightfall.”

Esca looks up from the plateful of olives and cheese to find Marcus looking very tired, his hair sticking up at odd angles where he must have been running his hands through it. He finds it difficult to swallow his mouthful.

“I got lost.” It’s even mostly the truth.

Marcus looks at him for a long moment before looking down and shaking his head slightly. “Next time—” he sighs and shakes his head again, “No, I’m going to bed. I will see you tomorrow.” And with that he stands up and leaves the room.

Esca is slightly stunned, not quite sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Marcus’ quiet resignation and sudden departure. He continues eating, though, until his hunger is sated, and then pours himself several more cups of wine and drinks until the world looks as hazy and unbalanced as it feels in his head.

He then staggers to the room that he has been told is his and collapses on the bed, hoping that his sleep will be either empty or enlightening.

~*~

It turns out to be neither, for he never actually falls asleep. Tossing and turning makes him nauseous and staring at the ceiling is only marginally more entertaining than staring at the inside of his eyelids. He’s drunk and he’s tired and he’s angry and he’s afraid, and beneath all that he feels sorry for worrying Marcus. And since that last one is really the only one he can do anything about, Esca decides to go apologize.

Marcus’ room isn’t far, so he’s able to make it in relative silence and without tripping over anything. He even manages to open Marcus’ door and sit on the edge of his bed without waking him.

Marcus is facing away from him, one arm stretched out across the bed, his palm facing upwards and his fingers curled over it delicately, the other bent close to his chest. His side rises and falls shallowly as he breathes, his sleep obviously fitful. Esca touches his bare shoulder and shakes him slightly.

He continues shaking and poking until Marcus lets out a heavy sigh. “Esca.”

Esca needs to see his face, so he pushes at Marcus’ shoulder until he rolls onto his back. The moonlight casts dark shadows beneath his eyes, making him look a little bit haunted.

“Esca,” he says again, and it’s slightly more exasperated. Esca wets his lips.

“I came to say—I need to—” The words are getting muddled between his head and his mouth.

Marcus squints at him. “Are you drunk?”

“Yes?”

Marcus sits up and pours a cup of water from the jug sitting on a stool near the bed. He holds it out to Esca, scrubbing the other hand through his bed-mussed hair. “Here.” He waits for Esca to take a drink, and then tips the cup up with a hand on the bottom to make sure he drinks a bit more. “Alright?” he asks when he allows Esca to lower the cup.

The laugh that forces its way out of Esca’s throat is short and harsh. “Not really, no.”

Marcus takes the cup from him and places it on the floor before reaching out and laying one of his broad hands on the back of Esca’s neck, stroking his hairline with his thumb. “I know.”

Esca lets out a shaky breath and lets Marcus soothe him a bit. “I’m sorry,” he says, finally. “For coming back late. I couldn’t—”

“Hush. It’s fine. You need some sleep.”

Esca nods, his head feeling very heavy, not noticing that he’s listing to one side until he’s lying on top of Marcus’ legs, his feet still on the ground so his spine is twisted at a strange angle. He feels Marcus touch his hair gently and then withdraw.

“Come on, we’ll get you back to your bed.”

Esca frowns against the sheet. He’s comfortable here. And Marcus’ bed smells nicer than his. And if Marcus would do that thing with his thumb behind his ear again he might be able to fall asleep.

“Esca, you can’t sleep here.”

Why not?

“Because you may not be so happy to find yourself here tomorrow morning.”

Oh, he must have asked that out loud. “Has that happened before?”

Marcus doesn’t answer immediately so Esca pulls his legs up onto the bed, curling up a bit at the foot of it. “No,” he replies after a long moment.

“Because I never slept here or because I never woke up regretting it?”

Marcus doesn’t say anything, so Esca takes that as an invitation to move further up the bed, burying his face in Marcus’ pillow and shoving his feet beneath the blanket. He has to lie on his side in order for them both to fit, but that’s all right, he actually sort of likes the close little space between Marcus and the wall. He feels himself sinking further and further into the bed and closer and closer to sleep.

Marcus, however, doesn’t settle, leaning back on his elbows and glaring at a fixed point on the far wall. If Esca had wanted to fall asleep to uneasy thoughts, he would have stayed in his own bed. So he tugs and prods until Marcus is lying on his side facing him. Esca can still feel him thinking, but at least he isn’t radiating tension.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“This,” Esca says as he bats an uncoordinated hand at Marcus’ forehead. Marcus catches his wrist, holding it in a loose grip at chest level.

“My head?” Marcus sounds vaguely amused.

Esca nods into the pillow, tugging against Marcus’ hold. Marcus releases him and Esca makes a frustrated noise. That wasn’t what he wanted. He takes Marcus’ hand and drapes it awkwardly over his neck, dragging his thumb up behind his ear. Marcus’ hand is warm and big and he doesn’t take it away, which is a relief. Esca then shakes his head back and forth a bit, tilting up into the press of Marcus’ thumb, trying to recreate the soothing sensation from before.

Suddenly Marcus catches on, chuckling lowly, the sound reverberating in the space between them, and begins stroking the skin behind Esca’s ear. He even scratches bluntly through Esca’s hair with his fingers, forcing Esca to let out a long, happy exhale.

“I always suspected you liked that,” he thinks he hears Marcus murmur wonderingly, and falls asleep.

~*~

The bed he wakes up in is empty and the sun is much higher than when he usually starts his day. It’s still Marcus’ though, which means that Esca hadn’t been having some bizarre dream. His mouth is also very dry and his head is buzzing enough to be both uncomfortable and annoying.

He sits up and pours himself a cup of water, gulping it down quickly and pouring himself another. He’s just about to pour himself a third when Marcus walks in.

“Here,” Marcus walks over and hands him a warm piece of bread with butter and honey smeared on it. “How are you feeling?”

Esca swallows his mouthful and takes another sip of water. “I’ve probably had worse hangovers.” He can see Marcus’ cheer falter somewhat, but he can also see him forge through it.

“Would you like to spend the day riding with me?”

Esca starts. They had told him that a riding injury had caused this entire mess. That his horse had spooked and he had fallen, cracking his head on a fortuitously-placed rock. He, of course, has no memory of this, but he’s surprised that Marcus would take the risk.

Marcus must see his surprise. “You’ll forgive me if I place you on the oldest, slowest, most surefooted horse we have?”

Nodding, Esca says, “I doubt that I still know how to ride, though.”

“Well, we’ll find out. Meet me at the stable when you’re ready.”

After Marcus leaves, Esca finishes his breakfast and has another cup of water before he heads back to his own room to relieve himself, wash up a bit, and change. At the very least, he feels relatively steady on his feet. The fresh air will probably help.

He makes his way to the stable to find Marcus standing outside it fussing with various straps and buckles on the gear of two healthy but relaxed-looking horses. Esca approaches the nearest one cautiously and reaches out to stroke its neck as Marcus works. When it doesn’t make any sign of displeasure, Esca moves in front of it and scratches between its eyes, working his way down to the soft fuzz of its nose. The horse gusts out a heavy breath through its nostrils and nudges at Esca’s belt.

“You always give that one treats,” Marcus says, moving next to him. “It’s why he likes you so much. Here.” Esca holds out his palm and Marcus places an apple in it. “Careful of your fingers.”

Esca offers the apple to the horse on the palm of his hand, mindful to keep his fingers flat and his thumb out of the way as the horse lips at and then takes the apple.

“Good,” Marcus says, patting the horse. “Let’s see if we can’t get you mounted and on your way.”

There’s no obvious way for Esca to get on the horse, so he does the first thing he can think of and grabs the two nearest horns to him, one on each end of the saddle, and tries to vault himself up and over. He ends up with a knee on the flank of the horse, but he easily shifts his grip to the front two horns of the saddle and settles himself properly. Luckily, the horse doesn’t protest the undoubtedly unusual maneuver and Esca evaluates his situation, trying to discover if anything looks or feels familiar.

Marcus hands him the reins and he holds them tentatively until Marcus adjusts his grip slightly. “How about a loop around the courtyard?” Esca swallows and nods. “Alright then. Squeeze with your knees to set him walking, pull gently with the hand of the direction you want to turn, and pull back gently with both hands to get him to stop. Understood?”

Esca nods again and squeezes his knees, waiting for the horse to lurch forward. The horse doesn’t move and Marcus laughs, which makes Esca flush. “This one’s gotten lazy. Tap him with your heels, but keep squeezing.” Esca does and the horse takes a few steps forward, so Esca sets him into a slow circle around the space in front of the stable, slowly gaining confidence as the horse responds and he adjusts to the sway of the horse’s gait.

He pulls to a stop next to Marcus, who has mounted his own horse and is waiting for him patiently.

“How did that feel?”

“Not quite like second nature, but good enough, I suppose.”

“You looked fine. Just remember to relax and let the horse do most of the work.”

Esca nods and lets Marcus take the lead, heading towards the fields. They ride for a few hours, slowly making their way through and around various fields, skirting the river and the woods. Occasionally, Marcus will point something out: where they caught their first boar, their favorite spot for swimming in the summer, the tree that Esca sometimes sneaks off to nap under. Esca has to admit that it’s better than wandering around blindly on his own, and he’s actually enjoying riding. His horse seems content to follow Marcus’, so he doesn’t need to do much beyond not falling off.

They’re following a stream that runs between two fields when Marcus turns around in the saddle and says, “There’s a small grove up ahead. It’s a good place to stop for lunch.”

Esca agrees, and in a few minutes they’re dismounting and hobbling the horses before sitting beneath the trees and unpacking the lunch Marcus had brought.

Looking around as he eats, Esca realizes that something about this place is itching at the back of his mind. It’s a strange sensation compared to the nearly a month of having absolutely no reaction to anyone or anything other than mild curiosity. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to try to remember or just let whatever is lying dormant in his mind come forward.

“Esca?”

He must be frowning, because Marcus is wearing the concerned look that Esca has become so accustomed to.

“We come here often, don’t we.”

Marcus smiles. “We do.” Esca looks around again, trying to find something familiar in the patterns of the shadows or the sound of the wind through the leaves. “Have you remembered something?”

Esca shakes his head, staring at the space between two trees. “No. I thought I had, but I can’t get a proper grip on it.”

“That must be maddening.” Something in the pitying lilt of Marcus’ voice sets Esca off.

“And what would you know of it?” he spits.

“Esca—”

Esca jumps to his feet and looms over Marcus, his knuckles white from clenching his hands into fists. “You know so much about me, and I just have to trust that it’s the truth! For all I know, I could still be your slave! You could have murdered my family! I know nothing of you!”

Marcus looks like he’s been slapped, and Esca experiences a flare of triumph at finally gaining some sort of upper hand. Even when Marcus stands, taller by nearly a head and heavily muscled, Esca holds his ground and stares him down.

“Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I enjoy seeing you confused and hurt? I would have fallen off that horse a thousand times to spare you this!”

“Why?” Esca shouts. “What am I to you?”

Marcus sets his jaw and doesn’t answer. And that’s the last straw. Esca shoves Marcus as hard as he can, happy to see him stagger back a few steps into the tree. “Answer me!”

When Marcus doesn’t answer again, Esca begins swinging at him with his fists.

“Esca, stop it,” Marcus commands, just before Esca lands a blow to his jaw, pain blooming in his knuckles as Marcus’ head jerks to the side. They both freeze for a moment, Esca panting and shaking, Marcus working his jaw back and forth.

“Coward,” Esca growls, and then the wind is crushed out of him as Marcus tackles him to the ground.

They grapple for a few minutes, scratching and trying to land blows, but then Marcus becomes more intent on pinning Esca down and holding him still, presumably to talk some sense into him, which only makes Esca angrier and more determined to keep fighting. So they roll around the ground and into tree roots until they’re both exhausted, dirty, bruised, and bleeding.

Actually, Marcus simply gives up. Esca had rolled them over so that he was looking down at him, snarling and feral, hands twisted in his tunic, and Marcus just dropped his hands and went limp. It took a moment for Esca to realize what had happened, but once the sport was gone all the fight bled out of him.

So now they’re staring at each other, both of them panting hot gusts of air. The bruise on Marcus’ jaw is purpling and he has a shallow cut over one of his eyes. Esca can feel the sharp ache of a blackening eye and he thinks his lip might be split near the corner of his mouth. His head is also ringing a bit, but Marcus is solid muscle and bone beneath him, grounding him.

Before he truly processes what he’s doing, Esca leans in and presses his mouth to Marcus’.

The pressure makes his cut sting and Marcus’ mouth is hot where it will probably swell later, but there’s a rightness to it that Esca can’t shake. Marcus goes completely stiff when their lips touch, but after a moment he relaxes, a high whine escaping his throat as he grasps the fabric of Esca’s tunic at the waist and holds on.

Esca spends several minutes learning the shape of Marcus’ mouth, nipping at it gently and slowly licking it open, before pulling back to look at him. When Marcus’ eyes open again, they’re large and dark and hungry.

“Why did you do that?” he asks, his voice scratchy and unsure, searching Esca’s face with those bottomless eyes.

“What am I to you?” Esca whispers one last time.

Marcus captures his face in his hands, stroking beneath his eyes with his thumbs, tracing the corners of his mouth.

“Everything.”

Esca kisses him again.

~*~

The ride back to the villa is comfortably quiet and Esca spends much of it watching the sway of Marcus’ shoulders as he moves in the saddle. The cut on his lip throbs dully, reminding him of the almost desperate press of Marcus’ mouth to his.

As the horses plod downhill, Esca tries to list all the things he knows about Marcus. He’s Roman. He was a soldier. He injured his leg. He saved Esca’s life, knowing nothing more than that he was a slave. He brought Esca with him north of the wall, knowing full well that Esca could have either run or killed him at every turn. He freed Esca. He’s well-meaning, if not a little bumbling, and he cares for Esca. There are worse places Esca could find himself essentially helpless.

And he’s fond of Marcus. Even when he first opened his eyes and didn’t recognize anything he saw, he wanted to erase the deep lines of worry from Marcus’ face.

“Perhaps next time we’ll try hunting and bring something back for dinner,” Marcus says over his shoulder, grinning. Esca grins back because Marcus looks comical smiling with his rapidly swelling lip and blood smeared across his brow. Marcus turns back around and Esca notices that they’re close to the villa, smoke from the kitchen curling against the sky.

“Something slow, I hope.”

Marcus laughs. “We’ll get a bow in your hands and you’ll remember how to use it soon enough.” Esca’s glad that Marcus has turned around because he’s not sure he could manage laughing. It’s the first light that Marcus has made of his condition, which means he’s beginning to accept it. Which also means that Marcus may one day give up trying to help him remember. Esca doesn’t want to live out the rest of his life not being able to remember the first half of it.

He spends the rest of the ride in sullen silence, too caught up in gloomy thoughts to realize what he’s doing once they return until Marcus draws him out of it.

“Did you do that?”

Esca looks at his hands, which are holding his horse’s bridle and reins. “I’m . . . not sure. Do what?” He looks at his horse, who is standing in a stall, his saddle and blankets off and his coat freshly brushed.

Marcus walks into the stable’s storage area and deposits his own saddle before walking to Esca and taking the tack out of his hands.

“You don’t know what you just did?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention, I was miles away—”

“Did someone help you?”

“No. Did I do something wrong?”

Surprisingly, Marcus laughs, grasping Esca by the shoulder. “You put everything in its place!”

“I did?” Esca really hadn’t been paying attention. It didn’t even occur to him to ask what he should be doing when they arrived.

Marcus squeezes his shoulders, shaking him a bit in his exuberance. “You just put that horse in his stall, took off all his gear, and put it away properly!”

“Oh.” Esca is more confused than happy. He doesn’t feel as though he remembered anything. He still feels like a stranger.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus’ concerned look is back.

“I don’t think I remembered how to do it, I just wasn’t thinking as I did.”

Marcus looks thoughtful for a moment. “If I asked you to saddle a horse, do you think you could do it?”

Esca thinks about it. He could try to copy what Marcus had done this morning, but there would be no way of knowing if he was doing it correctly. Finally, he shakes his head. “Like I said, I wasn’t thinking, I just did it.”

“Even so, it’s progress! Proof that you still have the memories, you just can’t get to them.” Marcus slings an arm over Esca’s shoulder and steers them towards the house. “Come on, perhaps you’ll remember more over dinner.”

It certainly sounds like progress, but it doesn’t necessarily feel like it to Esca. But the last thing he wants to do is ruin Marcus’ good mood.

~*~

That night, Esca tries to fall asleep in the bed designated as his, but fails miserably. Now that he knows that his room isn’t truly his, sleeping there feels wrong. It also explains why he finds the bed so uncomfortable compared to being cramped between Marcus and the wall.

So he sneaks into Marcus’ room again.

Marcus is awake, sitting up in bed looking over a wax tablet. Surprise flashes over his face when he first notices Esca, but it resolves into a tentative smile. The swelling of his mouth has gone down since dinner, so his smile isn’t as lopsided as it was.

“Something wrong?”

Esca sits on the edge of the bed. “Trouble sleeping.”

“Oh?” Marcus says, his voice carefully blank.

“That’s not my room, is it?” He narrows his eyes at Marcus, daring him to lie.

“It is, but you don’t sleep there often.”

“Where do I sleep, then?” Esca has a guess, but he wants his suspicions confirmed.

Marcus visibly squirms, but answers. Hopefully Esca’s trained him out of his evasiveness. “Here, mostly. Sometimes outside in the summer. Sometimes in your room for no reason at all.”

Esca raises his eyebrow carefully. His eye is sore.

“I know you very well, Esca, but I am far from understanding you sometimes.” He smiles ruefully and it twists something in Esca’s chest.

Esca tries a tentative smile. “That makes two of us?”

Marcus relaxes, closing his tablet and setting it aside. “You’re waiting for me to invite you to sleep here.” It’s not a question, and he’s not wrong.

“Are you planning on refusing?” The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches.

“Come on, then.” Marcus moves closer to the edge of the bed and Esca crawls up into the empty space and lies down.

He watches as Marcus blows out the lamps and climbs in after him, arranging the blankets to drape over their waists and lying back. But, being sober, Esca suddenly realizes that perhaps this wasn’t the best idea. He doesn’t have enough room, and the pillow is bunched strangely, and his eye aches if he presses against it wrong.

“You’re squirming,” Marcus says after Esca tries out several positions, all to no avail. Esca can hear the amusement in it.

“This was easier when I was already half asleep.”

“Sit up for a moment.” Esca complies, drawing his knees up and resting his elbows on them as he waits. He hears Marcus shifting and thumping the pillow several times. “Now come here.”

Esca lies back down, Marcus’ thick bicep between his neck and the bed, his forearm cradling his head beneath the pillow. “Face me,” Marcus murmurs, guiding him with a hand on his shoulder and then pulling him in until Esca’s knee slips between Marcus’ thighs and his face is sheltered in the space beneath Marcus’ chin. Marcus then arranges Esca’s arm to drape over his waist and curls his arm around Esca so he can cup the back of his head in his palm.

“Oh,” Esca sighs, suddenly more comfortable than he’s been in weeks and immediately on the verge of sleep.

“Mm,” Marcus hums in response, stroking through Esca’s hair gently.

Esca mindlessly buries is nose further into Marcus’ neck, trying to hold off sleep so he can savor the unfamiliar feeling of contentment washing over him. “I envy your Esca this,” he slurs against Marcus’ warm skin.

“You haven’t stopped being my Esca.”

“I have no memory of you. Of this.”

“Your body remembers. Your mind simply needs to catch up.”

“You should have told me.” Marcus’ hand stills in his hair and Esca feels him tense. It may be the wrong thing to say, but it’s true.

“I had hoped I wouldn’t need to. That you would remember. Part of you has, the rest will follow.”

Esca can’t be sure if he’s reassuring Esca or himself, so he makes a noncommittal noise and Marcus resumes his petting.

“Sleep, Esca.”

Esca does.

~*~

The next several days are uneventful, though Esca continues to sleep in Marcus’ room. Occasionally Marcus will kiss him, but only when Esca is drifting on the edge of sleep, too muzzy to even kiss back properly. Esca’s taken to stealing kisses when they’re alone during the day, just to see Marcus flush and grin and be able to sink his teeth into Marcus’ lower lip.

The itching sensation has become more frequent since that day in the grove, cropping up when he’s doing something mundane or he and Marcus are talking. He’s learned to ignore it, but he’ll often lose focus on what he’s doing or what Marcus is saying. Sometimes he’ll even look down at his hands to find them working at something he has no knowledge of.

Once he was helping Marcus mend a rope—and by helping, he was mostly holding the one end taut so Marcus could braid in new fibers—and he looked down to realize that he had tied a series of complicated knots while he had watched Marcus work. Often he’ll pick up his whittling and simply let his hands do what they will and watch as a bird with outstretched wings emerges. Marcus observes him keenly during those times, an unreadable expression on his face.

It’s during one such time that Marcus abruptly stands and suggests they get some exercise. Esca happily puts down his bird, his skin having felt a bit too tight since the day he and Marcus had spent riding.

“What do you suggest?”

Marcus considers for a moment, but Esca can tell his blood is up. It won’t be riding slowly through the fields or walking around the garden.

“Does wrestling sound too taxing?” Trust Marcus to qualify what he wants instead if simply asking for it. And that thought sets Esca’s mind to itching enough that he would say yes even if he thought wrestling did sound taxing, just to try to jostle the memory loose.

Instead, he smiles crookedly. “Hoping to redeem yourself?”

Marcus’ cheeks turn a little pink, but he draws himself up and places his fists on his hips, making himself look that much larger and more imposing and raises an eyebrow.

Esca laughs and stands. “Where do we usually do this?”

“The stable yard, typically. The ground is flat, but soft and cleared of rocks.” It makes sense and Esca nods his approval.

When they arrive, the yard is empty and Marcus does a quick circuit, moving dirt around with his feet and occasionally bending down to pick up a rock or a stick and toss it into the grass. When that’s done to his satisfaction he strips off his tunic and does a few stretches to loosen up his thighs, focusing on the injured one. Esca stares at his broad shoulders and the way his braccae pull across his groin as he squats, suddenly feeling very warm. He strips off his tunic as well and moves towards Marcus, swinging his arms to loosen his muscles from where he was hunched over before.

He scuffles his feet for a moment and then decides to take off his sandals as well, curling his toes in the cool dirt, satisfied that it gives him a better grip. Marcus is big, and he’ll be throwing his weight around.

Marcus straightens, dusting his hands off. “All right. If you want me to stop, you say so. If you can’t, you tap me, or the ground, twice.” Esca watches him as he settles his weight lower to the ground, bringing his hands up in front of him, and mirrors his position. “No eye-gouging,” Marcus adds, smiling, “keep it clean.”

“You say that like I fight dirty,” Esca says, grinning. He has every intention of fighting dirty.

Marcus smirks like he knows what he’s thinking and goes for Esca’s waist, fisting his hand in the waistband of his braccae and lifting him off his feet a bit. Esca knew Marcus was strong, but being bodily lifted off his feet and tossed to the ground is something else entirely. And before he can scramble upright, Marcus is on top of him, pinning him to the ground with his entire bulk.

Marcus’ face is very close to his and he’s grinning like Esca has never seen him, his eyes crinkling with it. “Now who fights dirty?” Esca asks.

Marcus pushes off of him and stands up, offering his hand. Esca thinks about trying to sweep his legs out from under him when he takes it, but Marcus looks to be as sturdy as a tree on his feet. So he allows himself to be pulled up and they square off again.

This time Esca ducks under Marcus’ arm and shoves his hip into Marcus’, trying to throw off his balance. It works enough that Marcus hops backwards a few steps before falling back, bringing Esca with him, tangling their legs together and rolling him beneath him. Marcus can’t rest his full weight on his bad leg, so Esca squirms out from under him, trying to crawl away on his stomach, but Marcus grasps his hips and drags him back, pinning him with a hand at the small of his back and dragging one of his arms behind him.

Esca pants into the dirt and taps twice against the ground with the flat of his hand, twisting his wrist in Marcus’ grip. The next several rounds go similarly, with Esca winding up beneath Marcus in the dirt.

They take a break, Esca standing with his hands braced on his knees, breathing heavily as sweat rolls down his back. Marcus is in a similar state, wiping his wrist across his forehead and leaving a streak of mud behind.

“How’s your head?’ Marcus asks.

“How’s your leg?” Esca replies.

“Fair enough. Another go?”

Esca nods, staring at the sweat and dirt smeared across Marcus’ chest and stomach. He wipes his hands off on his braccae and gets into position, mentally preparing himself for another face-full of dirt, mitigated by Marcus pressing down on him with all that exposed skin.

This time they circle around each other, Marcus batting away Esca’s hands as he tries to reach in to grab a wrist or a shoulder. Impatient, Esca darts to the side, trying to find an opening, but Marcus grabs his wrist and twists it back and up, forcing Esca to his knees. Esca has barely enough time to get his hand out in front of him to keep his face from hitting the ground. Marcus moves quickly for someone of his bulk, pinning Esca’s foot with one of his own and twisting Esca’s arm up a little bit higher.

Esca struggles, but Marcus has a firm hold and the last thing Esca wants to do is wrench his shoulder. He even begins throwing his free elbow in the hopes of connecting with Marcus’ ribs and getting him to loosen his grip. But when he connects, it must not be Marcus’ side, because Marcus suddenly makes a sound, a low, pained thing, releasing him and collapsing to the side. Esca pushes himself up to see Marcus on his back, clutching at his thigh, face creased with pain.

He spits a curse—one that doesn’t sound like Latin—and moves to lean over Marcus. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, “I didn’t mean—what can I do?” His hands are hovering over Marcus like tentative insects unsure of where to land.

Marcus sucks in a hissed breath and shakes his head. “Nothing. A moment and it will pass,” he grits though his clenched jaw, the tendons in his neck standing out as he kneads aggressively at his thigh.

One of Esca’s hands settle on Marcus’ shoulder, the other clenched on his own thigh in sympathy. Soon enough, Marcus’ breaths even out and he relaxes against the ground.

“Finally got you,” Esca says half-heartedly, taking his hand away and leaving dirty fingerprints on the skin of Marcus’ shoulder.

“Hah,” Marcus exhales, smiling weakly. “Shall we call it a day, then?” Esca nods. “I think we should celebrate with much-needed baths.”

“We were to have baths anyway.”

“Yes,” Marcus says, sitting up, “but this way, we earned them.”

Esca gets to his feet and helps Marcus up with a hand under his arm. Satisfied that he can at least stand on his own, Esca goes to pick up their various articles of discarded clothing. Marcus gingerly tests his leg and grimaces. “At least the bath is close,” he grumbles.

Esca hands Marcus his tunic and ducks under his arm, wrapping his free arm around Marcus’ waist. “Come on, then.” Marcus reluctantly leans on Esca, their skin slipping against each other a bit with drying sweat. Marcus smells like earth and exertion, but not in an unpleasant way. And the walk truly is short, though Esca makes sure they go carefully.

In the bath, Esca deposits Marcus on the bench and works on stripping out of his braccae. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Marcus removes his sandals and works the fastenings of his own braccae, sighing when he realizes that getting them off will be a chore. Without thinking, Esca goes over to help.

Ignoring Marcus’ wide eyes, Esca grabs the waistband of Marcus’ braccae and moves to pull them down. “Esca,” Marcus says, slight shock in his tone.

Esca grins at him briefly. “This can’t be more embarrassing than all those times I had to help you take a piss, can it?” The look of horror on Marcus’ face forces him to realize what he just said. “Did that actually happen?” he asks disbelievingly.

Marcus shrugs, embarrassment rolling off his shoulders like water, and smiles. “I’ll take an embarrassing memory over no memory at all. I lift, you pull. Ready?” Esca nods and Marcus lifts his hips up, allowing Esca to slide the braccae down his thighs. He stops when he gets past Marcus’ knees, trusting that Marcus can do the rest himself and more than a little transfixed by the sight of Marcus’ soft cock lying against his thigh, surrounded by dark curls of hair. The urge to lean in and nuzzle at it fondly is nearly overwhelming, but Esca shoves it back, focusing on the twisted scar on Marcus’ thigh instead.

He touches it with curious fingers, tracing the lines of raised skin. He can feel Marcus looking at him, but continues, scraping a gentle nail over one of the marks to watch it turn white before flaring back to pink. “What did this to you?” he asks, covering as much of the scar with the palm of his hand as he can.

“A chariot fell on it.”

“You’re lucky to have kept your leg, much less be able to use it.” Esca strokes the raised skin one more time and stands.

“I know,” Marcus says, taking Esca’s outstretched hand and pulling himself up.

It takes some maneuvering to get Marcus into the basin laid into the floor, and he settles with a contented sigh when they manage it. Esca slides into the warm water after him, sitting on the bench across the bath. For several minutes the only sound in the room is soft splashing as they scrub the worst of the dirt out of their hair and off their faces and necks. Esca ducks under the water and resurfaces shaking water out of his hair, splashing Marcus and surprising him into laughter.

“You missed a spot,” Esca says, reaching forward to brush at the spots on Marcus’ shoulder and crowd him into the side of the bath.

Marcus reaches up and knuckles a drop of water off the end of Esca’s nose. “Thank you.”

Esca moves his hand up to Marcus’ neck and moves in to kiss him. Marcus stops him with a broad hand on his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“I won’t take advantage of you.”

Esca laughs. “What? You act as though we have never done this before.”

“I can’t lie and say I don’t want more than a few stolen kisses from you. But I will not allow you to do something you don’t have full knowledge of.”

Esca’s smile falters a bit, but he presses against Marcus’ hand. “It’s simply pleasure, Marcus, nothing I’m sure we haven’t shared before.”

“But are you sure? Do you have any memory of what we are to each other? What we’ve shared?”

“How is a memory more important than what is in my heart?”

Marcus cups his cheek with his other hand, eyes clouded with sadness. “I don’t do this to be cruel, Esca. I want as much as you do. But I couldn’t bear it if you came to regret this.”

“I won’t,” Esca says fiercely.

Marcus leans in to press a quick, firm kiss to Esca’s mouth before drawing back to look at him again. “I hope you’ll trust me when I say that you’ve put up with me for this long.”

“Though I increasingly wonder why.”

Marcus takes Esca’s hands and kisses each of his palms. But Esca twists his hands out of Marcus’ grip and grasps at his face, pulling him up for another kiss, this one hard and biting that says, ‘I am not giving up, regardless of what you say.’ Marcus allows the kiss to continue—rumbling happily in his chest like distant thunder—though he makes sure to hold Esca where he is and not allow him to press any closer.

Eventually the kiss gentles and Esca sighs, pulling away. “We should get out soon, before we’re as wrinkled as old men.”

“A while longer. Please,” Marcus says, thumbing at Esca’s sides under the water. “The heat is good for my leg.”

“Would you like me to stay?”

“Who else will help me out?”

Esca places his hands on Marcus’ neck, his thumbs bracketing Marcus’ jaw, and places his knees on either side of Marcus’ hips on the bench. “I meant, would you like me to stay _here_?”

Marcus’ hold tightens on his ribs. “Only if you want to.”

Esca laughs and shakes his head. “You’re a fool.”

“So you’ve told me. Many times.” Marcus’ smile is a quiet, fond thing, barely turning up the corners of his mouth. Esca leans in to kiss it, to learn it, and Marcus sighs a contented breath.

“You could do this for hours.” It dawns on Esca as he’s scraping his teeth lightly over Marcus’ upper lip and it’s not a question.

Marcus hums a low note. “Days. Months. As long as you’ll let me.”

“Are all Romans as sentimental as you?”

Chuckling, Marcus kisses Esca one last time. “Poets: yes. Soldiers? Not likely.”

“So I’ve saddled myself with the one soldier with the heart of a poet?”

“Sadly, yes. But you complain about it surprisingly infrequently.”

“So you say.”

“Are you complaining now?”

“Not yet.”

“Good enough.”

~*~

That night Esca seriously considers going to Marcus’ room to sleep—as he has for the past several nights, and slept well because of it—but he’s not sure that he can handle another night pressed up against Marcus hoping for the tentative press of his lips or the stroke of his hands firmly above his waist as he falls asleep. Esca feels guilty, particularly in light of the contented little noises that Marcus makes in his sleep when Esca shifts against him, but he has his sanity to consider.

And, well, if Marcus suddenly realizes that he’s been a fool? All the better.

For the rest of the day it had been difficult not to think of how it felt to have Marcus pressing Esca down, or the long, powerful lines of him when naked. Esca’s hand skims down his stomach to grasp his hardening cock, the sudden jolt of pleasure a surprise. He knows it shouldn’t be—surely he’s been doing this for years—but the absence of memory makes every touch new and every reaction tantalizingly strange.

And then his thoughts drift back to Marcus. How Marcus would know exactly how he likes to be touched, how to wring everything out of him. Esca shudders at the combined thought of Marcus’ big, calloused hands on his skin and the feeling of his own fingers on the head of his cock when he pulls back his foreskin.

He thrusts into his own fist experimentally, trying to find the best rhythm, and listens to his own breathing, imagining Marcus’ gusting against his ear, his neck. He closes his eyes, finding a quick, twisting stroke that makes his toes curl and his pulse race. Images flash against the back of his eyes, some familiar and mundane and some less so. When he sees Marcus close his lips around his nipple, sucking and scraping with his teeth, Esca can’t bring his free hand up fast enough, twisting and scratching at the flesh until he whimpers with pleasure.

But even in his head Marcus is infuriatingly gentle, so Esca squeezes at his cock viciously and speeds his thrusts, picturing himself holding Marcus down and making his eyes roll up in his head as he arches beneath him. Esca snarls and comes, the world disappearing behind the rush in his ears and the blinding pleasure as he spurts over his fist and stomach, his limbs trembling like he’s overexerted himself.

He lies still for several moments, waiting for his breathing to even out as heat dissipates from his extremities. He briefly toys with the idea of cleaning himself up and crawling into bed with Marcus, but he can feel sleep tugging at him and remembers his resolve. Let Marcus spend a few nights touching himself and thinking of Esca. Then see if he’ll be so reluctant to actually touch Esca.

Esca absentmindedly wipes himself off with a corner of the sheet and allows himself to fall into sleep.

~*~

The next morning, Marcus is sullen but tries to hide it with cheerful talk about nothing in particular over breakfast. Esca tries to catch his eye several times, but Marcus avoids it as often as not.

“Did you sleep well?” Marcus finally asks.

“Well enough. And you?”

“I slept,” he says simply, clearly hoping for an explanation but not willing to ask for one.

“Did you have plans for the day?” Esca figures changing the subject may be safer.

“I thought I might go into town.”

“Would you like company?”

Marcus obviously wants to say yes, but he apparently has a stubborn streak to him as well because he shakes his head no.

Now it’s Esca’s turn to hide his disappointment. He nods and continues eating.

They finish and part ways, Esca going to the garden to sit under a tree with his whittling and various small household things that need mending. A little while later Marcus emerges and heads to the stable. Esca watches him in the stable yard as he saddles a horse and climbs into the saddle, turning around to ride towards the road.

Esca’s not angry exactly that Marcus wants to spend the day without him, it’s more that he’s angry that he doesn’t know what to do with himself all day. He knows that he has a morning’s-worth of work with him at most, and that leaves the rest of the daylight hours and perhaps early evening to occupy himself.

It turns out that it doesn’t take long at all to finish the mending—his fingers remember the work surely enough—and there’s not much more he can do to his little bird other than carve feathers and eyes into it. He spends a while making it as intricate as he can, just to give him something to do.

When he’s sick of looking at the bird he gathers his things and deposits them inside. He places the bird on Marcus’ bed as an apology and goes off to find a light lunch. He snags an apple, some cheese, and a few rolls from the kitchen and heads towards the river and the tree Marcus mentioned he liked so well.

As he reaches it, the sun has climbed high in the sky and he is happy for the nice patch of shade beneath it in which he can enjoy his lunch. The sound of the rushing water and rustling leaves is calming as he eats, washing the food down with cool river water. He lies back in the grass, trying to imagine having spent dozens of afternoons just like this, with only himself for company. He must have had much on his mind to enjoy solitude so. He wonders if this is where he would sleep when he spent nights outdoors as Marcus had said.

Very likely, he thinks as his eyes drift closed, lulled by the soft breeze and soothing sounds.

When he opens them again, the sun has moved and he’s no longer lying fully in the shade. He sits up, regaining his bearings a bit, and then moves to splash some water on his face. He heads back towards the villa, meandering a little and taking his time until he sees the stable. He decides to stop in to say hello to the horses, picking up a few apples from a basket near the door to distribute amongst the friendly ones.

The horses seem to know him, and a few stick their heads out of their stalls, obviously asking for the apples in his hands. He pats each one as it crunches away at its apple, smiling as the more insistent ones nudge at him for another. The last horse he stops by is the one he rode several days ago, and he spends several minutes scratching around his ears and feeling him breathe warm, humid air across his palms. After a while the horse stops lipping at his belt and lets him stroke down its neck and murmur quiet words to it. He gives it one final pat with a promise to visit soon and goes back to the villa to find something to occupy him until dinner.

  



	2. Chapter 2

Seemingly out of spite, Marcus doesn’t return until well after dinner. Esca retreats to his room when he’s finished eating for lack of anything better to do, and lies on his bed hoping that sleep will overtake him.

That is, until Marcus bursts in with a slightly wild look in his eyes.

“Marcus—” Esca starts, pushing himself up to sitting.

“Is this for me?” Marcus asks, holding up the carved bird Esca finished that morning.

“Yes,” Esca says slowly, drawing his knees up. Marcus moves to sit on the bed, clutching the bird in his hand.

“Where did you see this?”

“I—I’m not sure. I just made it.”

Marcus narrows his eyes disbelievingly. “Why did you give it to me?”

Esca shrugs. “I thought you might like it.”

Marcus places the bird in Esca’s hands, holding his wrists in an iron grip. “Think.”

Marcus loosens his hold a bit and Esca begins turning the bird over and over in his hands, inspecting it. It’s not a songbird, it’s . . . prouder, he thinks, with its wings outstretched and its head held high. It’s more like a hawk or . . . an eagle. And, like that, something clicks into place.

“You wore this around your neck,” he says wonderingly. Running his fingers over the eagle he can see it dangling off a leather thong, bouncing against Marcus’ chest as he moved or clutched in his hand as he sweated and trembled in the throes of fever. It’s not everything, but it’s something.

“Yes.” Marcus sounds pained and Esca looks up to find Marcus looking at him with a strange expression and wetness in his eyes. Suddenly he breaks out into a grin. “Yes. My father carved it for me and gave it to me before he left on his final campaign.”

“Which he never returned from.”

Marcus moves closer and reaches out like he wants to touch Esca but pulls his hand back at the last moment. “No.”

Esca laughs weakly. “Marcus, you can touch me.”

Marcus chokes out a wet-sounding laugh and gathers Esca to his chest, pressing his face into his hair as he envelops him in his arms. Esca wraps his fingers in Marcus’ tunic and holds on, sorting through the things slowly sifting into his head as he soaks in Marcus’ warmth.

Marcus shivering and wet, looking up at him from a riverbed. Marcus beating the ground with his fist in frustration the first time his leg collapsed underneath him after a long ride. Marcus kissing his neck softly. Marcus looking at him with fear and contempt in his eyes, swearing to kill him. Esca can’t place them in order or really establish context, but they’re memories, he knows that for sure.

“I’m not supposed to be this pleased,” Marcus says, muffled by Esca’s hair, “the doctor said your memories would come slowly and might not make much sense if they came at all. I shouldn’t put pressure on you.”

“I know,” Esca says into Marcus’ shoulder, effectively cutting him off. He’s not entirely immune to the rush of emotions and he feels a little light-headed with everything.

Marcus loosens his hold and presses a firm kiss to Esca’s temple. “It’s so selfish because you’ve been here this whole time, but I—”

Esca smiles lopsidedly. “You thought you lost me.”

Laughing once, Marcus nods his way into a kiss, cradling Esca’s head in his large hands like it’s something precious.

The kiss isn’t anything remarkable, really—a press of lips and the barest hint of tongue—but Esca is suddenly overwhelmed with both sensual and emotional memories, a messy swirl of things running through his head and beneath his skin. He has to pull back and get his bearings, suddenly feeling like there isn’t enough air in the room.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Marcus stammers, looking stricken.

Esca holds up a hand. “Don’t . . . apologize.” He’s gasping and he has no idea why. He shakes his head, trying to settle the things flitting around his mind. “Just—slowly?”

Marcus doesn’t move, so Esca grabs the front of his tunic and reels him in, pulling Marcus over him as he lies back. Following somewhat reluctantly, Marcus pauses to place the wooden eagle carefully on the floor next to the bed where they won’t roll on it.

“Slowly,” Marcus murmurs, running a hand through Esca’s hair, looking down at him with awe in his eyes.

“For now,” Esca says against his mouth, nipping Marcus’ lip gently.

That makes Marcus chuckle and tilt Esca’s head back for a slow, deep kiss that sends a tremor through Esca’s fingers. Marcus carefully settles his weight on Esca, pressing him down and nudging a wide thigh between his legs. His hands are gentle on Esca’s face and neck, holding him in place for Marcus’ probing licks into his mouth and the light pressure of his teeth on Esca’s lips.

The swell of memories has slowed, but Esca has enough to know that this is rare, that they don’t often take their time. Marcus is . . . cherishing him, and, while it’s very nice, the slow thrum of building arousal is making him want more.

Esca worms his hands between them and fumbles blindly with Marcus’ belt, pressing up against Marcus’ mouth and using his tongue to force his way inside.

Marcus pulls back and lays a line of kisses to Esca’s ear, nosing against it and sucking the lobe between his lips. “There you are,” he says, low and quiet as he reaches between them to undo the belt one-handedly and discard it over the side of the bed. Then his hand is back to cupping Esca’s neck as Esca runs his hands up and under his tunic to trace the lines of his back greedily.

Esca’s cock is filling slowly in his braccae, pressed against Marcus’ thigh. Marcus shifts down slightly to suck at Esca’s pulse and Esca uses the movement to drag Marcus’ tunic up to bunch beneath his arms. He tugs more insistently and Marcus pulls back to remove it, all that skin warm beneath Esca’s hands as it’s revealed. Marcus kisses beneath his jaw as one of his hands sneaks beneath Esca’s tunic to palm his ribs, the curve of his waist. Esca shivers when it moves to cover his stomach, sliding upwards possessively.

When Marcus’ finger brushes a nipple, Esca can’t get the thing off fast enough. He has to shove Marcus back to get enough room, but it’s quick enough work that he doesn’t miss him overmuch before he’s leaning back in, kissing between his collar bones, making his way over to his shoulder.

Marcus runs his hand down the length of Esca’s arm from shoulder to elbow, grasping the joint and pulling until it’s no longer curled around his neck. His hand then moves to stroke down his forearm to interlace their fingers together and press Esca’s hand to the bed. Esca struggles momentarily, but Marcus runs his lips over the sensitive inside of his bicep so he stops. Marcus traces a few of the lines of Esca’s tattoo with the tip of his tongue, sucking a bruise into one of the open spaces. And it’s . . . familiar, the care that Marcus is taking, the single-minded focus.

And suddenly Esca remembers the first time he was able to talk Marcus out of his clothing and into doing something far more interesting with his hands and mouth. Marcus had wanted to explore, to take his time, and show Esca just how much he appreciated every part of him. That is, until Esca had grown impatient, rolled Marcus over, and simply taken what he wanted. The look on Marcus’ face had been--‘unforgettable’ isn’t entirely accurate--illuminating, to say the least. As is the look on Marcus’ face now, with Esca straddling his chest with a hand fisted in his hair.

Esca tightens his grip momentarily to feel Marcus’ stomach flex beneath his ass as he bucks into the air. “Oh, Marcus,” Esca grins, “you should have said.”

Marcus gives him a pained look that speaks to his inability to say anything even now. Esca tilts Marcus’ head back and leans down to brush his lips over Marcus’ cheek. “It’s all right. You’ve taken such good care of me. Now let me return the favor.”

Marcus groans and his eyes slide shut as he relaxes beneath Esca. Using the hand not occupied in Marcus’ hair, Esca begins unfastening his braccae. He reaches in to give his cock a friendly squeeze, and grins when Marcus’ eyes fly open and watch avidly as Esca strokes himself languidly.

“What do you want, Marcus?” Esca stops gripping Marcus’ hair and simply pets it, pushing it away from his face. Marcus’ tongue darts out to lick his lips, but that’s really all Esca needs.

Esca pulls his cock out, shoving the braccae down as far as he can with one hand. “Is this what you want, Marcus?” Marcus nods, his eyes slightly glassy and a flush climbing up his neck. “You’re going to have to ask for it.”

Marcus closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath through his nose. “Please.”

Esca grabs a handful of Marcus’ hair again. “Look at me, Marcus.”

When he complies, Marcus’ eyes are huge and dilated and his voice sounds broken when he speaks. “Please, Esca.”

Esca scratches through Marcus’ hair with his fingers to cup the back of his head as he shifts forward until he can rub his cock over Marcus’ lips, making them both moan at the contact. Marcus nuzzles against his cock and Esca has to brace himself on the wall above Marcus’ head to maintain his balance. But he can’t keep himself from thrusting against Marcus’ face, the prickle of stubble along his shaft forcing a hissed breath from between his clenched teeth.

Marcus is seemingly content to press his face against Esca’s pelvis, but Esca wants, so he pulls Marcus back by the hair and begins feeding him his cock in one long, slow slide. And Marcus just takes it, opening up for him like this is all he’s ever wanted. He takes Esca’s cock greedily, making a high noise in the back of his throat as he sucks. The sheer neediness of it sends a shiver down Esca’s spine all the way to his toes, curled against Marcus’ sides. He tries not to thrust his hips, but it’s a near thing.

Stopping with his cock most of the way into Marcus’ welcoming mouth, Esca takes a moment to get his bearings. It’s been a long time since he’s had this and he doesn’t want to rush it. He wants to savor it.

But Marcus has other ideas, pulling against Esca’s hold on his hair, bobbing his head as much as he’s able. Esca has to press his forehead to his wrist against the wall and take a deep breath to keep from pushing as far as he can into the wet heat of Marcus’ mouth. He’s shaking.

And then Marcus’ hands are on his hips, urging him to thrust as Marcus moves his tongue and swallows around him. “Marcus,” Esca whines, unable to stop himself from moving now that he’s started. Marcus hums and strokes his hips as the sounds of sucking get louder and Esca’s thrusts become erratic. He chokes on a shout and comes, moaning as Marcus keeps sucking.

When he becomes too sensitive he pulls Marcus off, sitting back on Marcus’ broad chest and catching his breath as Marcus runs his hands up and down his thighs soothingly. Marcus’ lips are wet and Esca bends down to kiss him, licking his taste out of Marcus’ mouth. Esca groans, the eager way Marcus sucks on his tongue stoking the flame of arousal that he thought had died back for now. His cock twitches weakly, trying its best to get hard again.

“I had plans for you,” Esca murmurs.

Marcus hums a cross between a question and a moan and wraps his fingers around Esca’s still-hard cock, squeezing gently. The sudden sensation is shocking and Esca gasps into his mouth. Marcus uses his strength to lift Esca up enough that he can sit up and deposit Esca in his lap, returning his hand to Esca’s cock to stroke it lightly.

It’s good, really good, and Esca needs them to be naked. He extricates himself from Marcus and moves to the edge of the bed, kicking off his braccae before kneeling in front of Marcus to undo his. Marcus helps by pushing them down his hips and Esca whips them off and drops them, eyes drawn to Marcus’ cock hard between his legs. It’s a nice cock, he has time to think, before more scenes are playing behind his eyes, many of them involving that cock and the two of them, naked.

The onslaught sends him to full hardness and Esca grunts with the force of it.

“What?” Marcus asks, reaching out, concerned.

“I want to fuck you,” Esca growls.

Marcus’ mouth falls open, but he nods vigorously, dragging Esca close to pant against his mouth as he lies back and spreads his legs. Esca pushes two fingers into that willing mouth and watches as Marcus sucks on them as greedily as he had his cock, his eyes closing in concentration and pleasure.

“Do you want it like this?” Esca whispers, pulling his fingers out and using them to circle around Marcus’ hole.

Marcus nods again and Esca worries about him rattling something in his head with nodding so much. He strokes up the length of Esca’s arm to clasp his neck. “I want to see you.”

Esca has to drop a quick kiss to Marcus’ wrist for that, and then pushes his first finger in slowly to the second knuckle. He watches as Marcus drops his head back and arches into the touch, pushing himself a little further onto Esca’s finger. Esca pushes in farther to hear Marcus moan before pulling out to set up a rhythm. It’s a quick, rocking thing, because Esca is impatient and his cock is already leaking and everything about Marcus says he wants more. So Esca gives him another finger and watches as the flush spills down Marcus’ chest when he crooks his fingers the smallest bit.

“Esca,” Marcus gasps, squeezing with his legs. Esca speeds up, grasping Marcus’ cock and running his thumb over the head as he adds a third finger. “You,” he says insistently, reaching for Esca’s flexing wrist between his legs.

“All right,” Esca says, pulling out his fingers and spitting in his palm. He slicks his cock up quickly, lest he become lost in the feeling of his own hand. Marcus spreads wider for him as Esca lines himself up, looking into Marcus’ eyes, whose pupils are blown wide and dark. Biting his lip as he pushes, Esca barely keeps from seating himself in one fast thrust. He digs his fingers into Marcus’ hips instead, moving as slowly has he can allow himself.

When his hips are finally flush with Marcus, he’s glad for the first orgasm, because he’s not sure he could hold out against the grasping heat otherwise. Especially not with Marcus clutching at his biceps and panting beneath him.

“Move,” Marcus manages, and Esca is helpless to refuse, his hips taking on a mind of their own as he thrusts into Marcus. He tries desperately to slow down, to make it better than mere rutting, but Marcus is urging him on in every way he can, gasping Esca’s name between harsh breaths.

Esca wants desperately to kiss him, but he can’t quite reach and Marcus’ head is tilted back against the pillow, so he presses his forehead to the center of Marcus’ chest and disengages one of his arms from Marcus’ grip to reach between them. Marcus’ cock is hot and dark in his hand, pulsing in his grip. Tilting his hips slightly, he waits for the broken moan that means he’s found the right angle and begins stroking Marcus’ cock fast and hard, wringing out his orgasm. Marcus sobs as he spills over Esca’s hand, clutching around Esca’s cock.

Esca’s orgasm crashes down around him, stealing his breath and forcing his arms to give way so he collapses on Marcus’ chest. After a few moments the world coalesces to Marcus trembling faintly beneath him and stroking gentle fingers through his hair and down his back. Esca sighs happily, soaking it all in for a moment before he lays an apologetic kiss over Marcus’ still-racing heart and pulls out, feeling Marcus tense all over and then relax as he does.

All of his muscles are lax and content, but Esca still moves to go wet a cloth to wipe them down. Marcus doesn’t let him, using his strength to pull Esca back down to sprawl across Marcus’ chest, this time within kissing distance. “Don’t you dare,” Marcus murmurs firmly against his mouth.

Esca decides against complaining in favor of pushing his tongue past Marcus’ lips and enjoying all the little things he knows to do to make Marcus melt beneath him. But he stops when he feels Marcus’ cock twitch weakly against his thigh and Marcus makes a small, pained noise.

A wave of sleepiness washes over him and he slides off of Marcus to squeeze between him and the wall, nudging himself half beneath Marcus until he takes the hint and turns onto his side and Esca can wrap himself around him. He tucks Marcus’ head beneath his chin and folds his arms and legs around him as best he can. Marcus finds his hands with his, intertwining their fingers and dragging one of Esca’s hands over his heart.

“Welcome back,” Marcus says quietly, his voice hoarse with the weight of the sentiment.

Esca presses a kiss to the top of his head and silently swears to never leave even as he says, “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Marcus moves one of Esca’s arms so he can sink his teeth into the flesh hard enough to sting. “That’s not funny.”

“I know,” he says. squeezing Marcus’ fingers between his own and distantly hoping that the quiet throbbing of Marcus’ bite means that it will leave a mark. Even with his memory back a few reminders here and there couldn’t hurt anything.

He feels Marcus’ breath slow and lets him drift to sleep, piecing memories and time lines together in his head. He does this for several hours, going over every childhood experience he can muster, focusing on what he can remember of his parents and brothers. The things that he nearly lost forever, the things that Marcus could never give back to him. It makes a part of him ache--a deep, deep part of him that Marcus can never truly touch to soothe away--and he allows a few tears to soak into the pillow for the family and people that he nearly lost a second time.

But that’s when Marcus stirs, twitching in his sleep and making small, unhappy noises. Esca is used to his nightmares, though they’ve petered off since returning from the north. Esca hushes him, disentangling one of his hands to stroke over Marcus’ hair and the side of his face.

“Promise,” he whimpers, and it lances Esca’s heart how broken he sounds.

“Shh, Marcus, it’s all right.”

“Promise me, Esca,” he says more firmly, and Esca can feel his face crease as his brows draw together.

“I promise,” Esca says without a second thought, burying his face more firmly into Marcus’ hair. Marcus immediately relaxes, his breaths evening out once more. Esca allows the easy rhythm of them to bring him closer to sleep, going over all of the promises he’ll make to Marcus in the morning. Out loud and in daylight, where they won’t be mistaken for anything but what they are.


End file.
